


I'll Be Good

by negickapologist (neganstonguething)



Category: The Walking Dead (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Illness, gratuitous use of negan running his mouth, negan waxes emotional, romance is not the focus, unrequited feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 08:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11227185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neganstonguething/pseuds/negickapologist
Summary: Rick falls ill, and no one's sure if he's ever going to come out of it. Negan tries to help, and helps himself in the process.





	I'll Be Good

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution to grab-my-boner's 1k challenge on Tumblr. Had so much fun with this one! Totally didn't expect it to be almost 10k words long. The song I used for the challenge was "I'll Be Good" by Jaymes Young. If you haven't heard it before, I definitely recommend giving it a listen before/while reading this work. The meaning and general feel of the song is what this fic is centered around.
> 
> This is also my first fic strictly taking place in the comic universe. But Negan's redemption arc in the comics is so important to me, and I felt as if this was a good time to express that. As a result, this fic gets pretty emotional from Negan's POV.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Negan wears his mask well. It’s made up of a façade of strength and confidence and pride in himself and everything he’s ever done. It’s of a ruthless man with a sharp wit and more vulgar jokes than one person should ever be pre-equipped with. Even after being imprisoned for years, Negan wears that mask. It’s cracked and worn, but it still fits his face.

And for the most part, he has those traits, but they aren’t all he is. He’s also guilt, remorse, concern, and pain—so much pain. He’s not as strong as he wishes he could be, and as of late, bravery seems to be chasing something else…something far, far away from him. He’s been such a coward, and so very weak, and now that it’s affecting those he cares about, he’s starting to realize the damage it’s done.

After Lucille, Negan tried hard to move on. He did as she would have wanted him to do—went on about his new life at the end of the world as if she were right beside him. He slipped that mask on like it was his own goddamn face and kept moving. Started a new world, with new people. Did what he thought was necessary to get by. Lost people. Gained people. Saw cowardice, and saw loyalty. During his journey to the top, Negan encountered it all.

Or he thought he did, at least. But then, Rick came along. Determined Rick. Scowly, threatening Rick. Rick Grimes and the giant fucking family that made up his community. A circle of people that refused to bow to Negan’s will. People who fought and died and fought all over again. And at the head of them was Rick, who Negan had initially thought had ruined everything.

But in reality, he had saved Negan. Somehow, he’d gotten the impression that Negan wasn’t the big bad wolf he’d made himself out to be. Rick had at some point worked up the courage to come to Negan with a solution. He’d seen a misguided man—a wounded man, which was a big deal, since Negan didn’t run around talking about his dead wife on a regular basis.

Truthfully, Negan doesn’t believe Rick planned to keep him locked away forever. He’d made comments about making sure Negan rotted in that cell, but Negan never believed he actually would. Rick came to him for advice, and after Alexandria went to shit under the attack of the Whisperers, something in him put enough faith in Negan to be led into that house alone with him.

Everything he told Rick in that house is true. That Rick saved him, and that he learned humility through him, and that he knew he could change. That all the times he’d pleaded for Rick to let him out of that cell, he had truly intended to be a different person.

He still does.

But oh, how terrible he feels right now. And honestly, this one isn’t his fault. But still, Negan feels as if there’s something he could have done to help.

They all think it’s stress. Alexandria and the Hilltop have both crumbled under the impact of the Whisperer War. Carl very recently moved to Hilltop to pursue a blacksmithing apprenticeship under Earl Sutton. People died. _Andrea_ died. Rick has been under a world of stress, and he’s been a hard-working, dedicated leader since the world ended. People are saying it was only a matter of time before he gave in to the pressure.

But it’s not right. Damn it, it’s not right.

Rick didn’t just give in. He collapsed. Alexandria and Hilltop had taken a long-ass time to rebuild, and with Negan working back at the Sanctuary, trying to keep his nutcases in check, he had left Rick alone. He was never alone in the literal sense, but his wife and son were gone, and everyone was just so busy picking up the pieces. Nobody expected Rick to cave in. He’d been through so much, both physically and emotionally, that most thought him invincible.

Everyone, Negan included, had sincerely thought Rick would stand up on his own two feet and keep going, just like he always does. No one expected him to be the weak one. Even though Rick has truly earned the right to be said weak one, nobody was ready for it.

Jesus was the one to tell Negan, after the message was relayed to him by Eugene. The Sanctuary had been really picking up on its progress, and like any other day, Negan had been hard at work making sure he kept it that way.

And then Jesus came galloping up on his fucking horse, that alarmed look on his face, and thank fuck Negan had been running around outside, because what Jesus said, that one line, was all Negan needed to hear before he took off. He dragged Dwight with him after announcing to the workers outside what was going on, and then he was gone, Jesus’ words echoing like song in his head.

_“There’s something wrong. It’s Rick.”_

Negan knew Rick had grown on him long before the shit had hit the fan. Hell, he had liked Rick before he’d even become the man’s prisoner. Rick had been different from the very beginning—special. Pretty. Smart. Perceptive. Loyal. All the good human traits somehow amalgamated into the body of one person.

Now, he couldn’t be more fond of the guy if he tried. Negan adores Rick, probably on a similar level to how strongly he’d adored Lucille. He’ll never have the balls to be his pathetic old self and act upon those feelings, but they’re there. And now that Rick isn’t doing well, he kind of wishes he had said something.

Negan spends the entirety of the ride to Alexandria not fucking knowing what’s wrong with Rick. Did the guy get shot? Did the Whisperers show back up? Is he sick? What the fuck happened to him?

Jesus’ urgency is even more unnerving. Negan knows he’s only trying to make sure they get to Alexandria as fast as humanly possible, but goddamn…Negan is sure just wondering what’s happened is going to kill him before he gets there.

It isn’t until he arrives and sees Maggie, Carl, Lydia, Eugene, and Michonne all waiting there with the same concerned look on all their faces that Negan realizes just how serious this whole thing is. There’s a tiny instance where Negan feels flattered that everyone, or someone, or fucking anyone considered it important to make sure Negan got here, but for the most part, he’s just too fucking scared about Rick to spend time thinking about it.

“What the fuck is happening?” Negan sees Maggie—strong Maggie, who never looks at Negan with anything short of a sharp glare—bite her lip and look down at her lap. Carl turns his gaze away and squeezes Lydia’s hand. Michonne frowns so deeply that she seems to sink into her chair. “Where the fuck is Rick?”

It’s Eugene who finally stands up and addresses Negan. Everyone is sitting in the living room of Rick’s house, and when Eugene stands, he clears his throat and motions for Negan to follow him up the stairs. He doesn’t have to think too deeply to know he’s being led to Rick’s room.

“Rick’s been trying so hard.” Eugene starts as they walk, and for once, Negan just listens. “Even harder after what happened to Andrea. He didn’t want her death to be in vain. He told me once that she had told him on her deathbed that he’d taken Hell and turned it into an oasis. It must’ve stuck with him as something she was extremely proud of him for, because he’s been trying hard to restore everything to its original glory ever since.”

None of this is entirely new to Negan, but he’s so afraid he might miss something that he just keeps on listening.

“He keeps to himself a lot more, so I’ve been kind of worried about him. I check on him every now and then, and I’m glad I have been, because I found him on the ground two nights ago.” Eugene sighs heavily and opens the door to Rick’s room. “He was crumpled on the kitchen floor. His pulse keeps jumping and he’s got a fever. He hasn’t woken up since I found him.”

Rick is lying in his bed, unmoving, save for the occasional shallow breath. Atop his forehead is a folded wet washcloth. His face is flushed and sweaty, and even though he appears to be in a deep sleep, he looks anything but peaceful.

Negan finds the chair at Rick’s bedside quickly and takes a seat. He places a hand atop Rick’s and tenses when he feels how clammy it is. “…Fuck.”

He turns a glance back to Eugene just as the other man resumes speaking. “I asked Jesus to go to the Sanctuary and find you. Rick was guarded around you but once you went back to the Sanctuary and started working there, he started to speak well of you.”

Negan tries to hide the bitterness on his face at the way Eugene keeps referring to Rick in the past tense. Does he really think the guy is going to die?

“I thought maybe if you told him how things are going out there,” Eugene continues, “that might ease his nerves a bit. That’s all he wants, you know. For everything to work out. He wants peace everywhere and true homage to be paid to those who died trying to make the world what it is today.”

Negan turns his gaze back to Rick. He knows without a shadow of a doubt that Eugene is right. His heart melts at the thought, and sinks at the same time. It’s been so long since the last time he saw Rick. It’s so painful that this is how he gets to see him after all this time.

“What’s gonna happen to him?” Negan asks, and he doesn’t bother with trying to hide the pathetic little quiver of nervousness in his voice. Everyone knows just how deeply he respects Rick, after all.

Eugene shakes his head. “I don’t know. He’s not actively dying right now, but that doesn’t mean he’s doing well. I wish I knew more about this kind of thing so I could tell you.”

Well, no fucking shit Rick isn’t doing well. He looks like goddamn horse crap. Negan isn’t sure if it’s a coma or what, but he doesn’t recall a time when he’s ever wanted to see the twinkle in Rick’s eyes more than he does now.

“Just talk to him, okay?” Eugene tries, and with some level of sympathy, Negan sees and feels just how worried Eugene is for Rick.

Everyone is. Rick may or may not know it, but a great many people look up to him. And considering the world Rick has created out of the shambles of the infection, Negan can see why. Obviously, he looks up to him as well.

“Yeah.” Negan nods, having already planned to spend time at Rick’s side anyway. “No fucking problem, man.”

Eugene’s expression relaxes, a flicker of gratefulness lighting up on his features. “Thanks, Negan. And, uh…”

Negan looks up at him again, just in time to see him scrub at the back of his neck with his hand.

“I’m sorry.” Eugene finally finishes, before he turns and departs the room. In all actuality, Negan isn’t sure what the man apologized for, but at the same time, he somehow gets it. Frankly, Negan wants to apologize, too. It’s too fucking bad sorry doesn’t fix everything, huh?

Either way, Negan turns his focus back to Rick. The man appears to have calmed somewhat, his breathing evening out a little. If there’s a good time to try and talk to this guy, it’s when his stress level isn’t through the roof.

“Hey, Rick.” Negan starts, and he mentally curses himself for not having a less cliché way to greet someone he hasn’t seen in so long. At the very least, Rick is still fairly relaxed. “Long time no fucking see. Sucks that this is how our reunion has to go, huh?”

In a way, Negan knows exactly what to say, but at the same time, he has no idea where to start. He’s got questions he won’t be getting answers to, details he doesn’t know for certain will reach Rick’s mind, and apologies he doesn’t think he even deserves to give. He feels pathetic…so pathetic. Why hadn’t he stuck around and helped Rick with Alexandria? Couldn’t Dwight have handled the Sanctuary until everything here was in one piece? Negan knows Rick hasn’t been suffering alone, but it could be that just one more supportive presence could have taken some of the weight off his shoulders and helped to keep him from going down like this.

“Sure you’ll be happy as a fucking clam to know that shit’s really picking up over at the Sanctuary.” He continues, smiling sadly at eyes that can’t even see it. “I mean, we’re all still a little rough around the fucking edges, but we’re a ‘no bullshit’ group there now, Rick. It’s still strange to me that one fucking talk is all it took for me to get what you were trying to say, but then again, it _was_ you talking to me.”

Negan relaxes back in his chair, turning his gaze across the room, to the wall on the other side. His words remain focused on Rick, though.

“I dunno if you realize it or not, but you have this crazy as fuck impact on people. Not sure myself what the hell it is, but it’s there. Shit, you could convince an entire population of people to shake _before_ taking a fucking piss, and they’d treat it like gospel. You’re incredible, Rick.”

He lets out a sigh and allows his thoughts to drift off for a moment. God, it sucks seeing Rick like this. Negan wants advice. He wants to know what Rick would do if he were in Negan’s shoes right now. What if Negan himself had been the one to collapse and the Sanctuary needed a voice? Hell, they’d probably just move to Alexandria and live with Rick there. Rick just…knows what to do. Besides, the situations are hardly the same. The way the Saviors regard Negan is totally different from the way Rick’s family and his people regard him.

“Wish you’d have told somebody you were overwhelmed.” Negan resumes. “You’re amazing with all your fucking strength and resolve, but you gotta remember, Rick…you’re only human. You should keep in mind that it’s okay to ask for a little fucking help every now and then. You’re not some magical ten-armed comic book superhero—frankly, that’d be a little weird to see anyway. But, Rick…I’m here, okay? You just gotta ask for me…y’know, when you wake up.”

Jesus, that sounds terrible. Like Negan’s just talking to a casually-sleeping Rick Grimes, trying to wake him up from a simple nap or some shit. Why can’t it be that easy?

“Fuck…” Negan drags his fingers through his hair, disheveling his slicked-back look some. “ _Are_ you gonna wake up? Isn’t that a scary fucking thought, Rick? I can think of plenty of people who are shaking in their fucking shoes they’re so terrified right now. People can’t lose you, Rick. _I_ can’t lose you.”

He means it, too. But now that he thinks about it, there’s a very big chance he and everyone might _have_ to. Rick has lost so much, and so many that he cherishes. And somehow, he’s picked himself up off the ground every time. He’s been through hell and high water, and maybe losing Andrea was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Negan clears his throat, which actually takes more effort than he wants it to. “But I guess I don’t get a say in the fucking matter, huh? If this is gonna be how you go, that’s it. Are you ready for that, Rick? God, I hope you are. It’d fucking suck to see you die with regrets.” He laughs bitterly. “Shit, look at me talking like you’re gonna die when I actually have no fucking clue what’s going on.”

And it’s true. Eugene had said he’s not yet in the process of dying, but he’d looked so damned hopeless all the same. And Negan’s been sitting here spilling his guts to a Rick who hasn’t been so much as smiling or frowning in response to his words. Negan doesn’t have a doubt in his mind that everyone else currently sitting in Rick’s living room has tried the same thing, too. Needless to say, it sure seems pretty hopeless right now…

“It’ll suck like hell if you go, Rick.” Negan continues, braving to reach out and clasp his fingers around Rick’s wrist. “But if you do, you can do so without worrying about your people. I’ll care for them my own fucking self if it comes to that. I won’t ever let you down on this, Rick. I know I’m a man of many fuck-ups, but this…I’d never forgive myself if I fucked up. So, I just won’t. I’ll do right by you and your family. I promise.”

He stands up, removes the washcloth from Rick’s head, and wets it in the bowl on his end table. After he folds it back up and places it atop Rick’s forehead, he laughs bitterly. “But don’t you dare take that as permission to fucking die on us. That’s a last resort option, Rick. These people need you way goddamn more than they’ll ever need me.”

He sighs and heads to the doorway, but just as he’s about to leave, he turns to look back at the man resting in his bed. “I’ll be back. Or one of the others will be. We’re not going anywhere until something gives, Rick.”

How immensely frustrating it is that nothing Negan said so much as generated a tiny hint of a response from Rick. He knows why, but it’s still so hard to process without getting angry. Negan laughs ruefully at the thought of how painful all the cold, wordless stares Rick had offered in the past had been. If he’d have known he would one day not even get that much, he’d have thanked Rick for every single glare he’d gotten.

What he wouldn’t give be to be on the receiving end of one of those fuckers right now…

Soon, Negan finds himself in the living room all over again, meeting eyes with the rest of Rick’s visitors. They all look briefly hopeful, before they see the lack of excitement on Negan’s features. They’re the faces of people who were obviously hoping against all hope that just one more voice might have been the one to bring Rick back.

“I’m sorry.” Negan says, as Maggie’s shoulders slump and Lydia pulls Carl into a hug. Michonne’s features droop, but she’s the first to respond.

“So, what now?” She questions. “Alexandria still needs someone to guide them.” Negan can tell by her expression that she’s not trying to be dismissive of Rick. The question is a necessary one. And it doesn’t exactly mean that there’s no hope for Rick. It’s more that they need to figure something out for while Rick is out, because there’s no telling how long he’s going to be.

Maggie turns her attention to Carl, and they all know why. Even though he’s still so young, he’s mature for his age and has had the most direct exposure to Rick’s leadership. Carl would be a perfect candidate for temporary leader. Negan fancies the thought that he could even be a permanent one in the future.

Carl doesn’t outright refuse, but he does hesitate. He’s so young, and even if he’s going to accept, it’s a lot to ask of someone, even an adult.

“I’m not my dad.” Carl reminds them. “I dunno if I’m what this place needs.” It’s strange, seeing this kind of response from Carl Grimes—the same kid who up and snuck into one of Negan’s trucks and infiltrated the Sanctuary. The same kid who fired a shot that started a war. The same kid who never once looked at Negan in fear. Lack of confidence doesn’t suit him.

Negan clears his throat. “With all due fucking respect, kid, you’re _exactly_ what this place needs.” He sees the glare on Carl’s face—the same glare his father used to sport before Negan earned some patience from him. “But it’s a lot, I get it. That’s why I’ll stay and help if you’ll take me.”

Even Maggie seems to relax at Negan’s words. Carl’s just as rigid as ever, though. Negan sees his jaw clench as he turns a fierce eye up to regard him.

“Are you sure you’re ready for that kind of responsibility?” Carl’s words aren’t meant to bite, Negan can tell, but he knows why they have that serrated edge to them. The real, unspoken question Carl is asking is ‘Can you be trusted?’

It’s been a year since the Whisperers attacked. A year of Negan working hard to try and prove himself. Rick had straight up told him before he’d left for the Sanctuary that he was going to put some trust in him with regards to the place, and considering how well it’s gone ever since, Negan figures he’s been making good on that hard-earned trust.

But Carl’s been off rebuilding Hilltop. He hasn’t seen Negan’s efforts, and even if he had, he’s a far more jaded person than most of the people Negan knows. He has earned the right to not have to place his trust in anyone, and especially not in Negan.

“I can handle it.” Negan tries. “I’ve got you to keep my sorry ass in gear, kid. Know you’ll take me out if I put so much as one fucking toenail out of line.” He would hope the kid would do so, even.

But still, Carl doesn’t seem convinced. Michonne notices.

“Carl.” She attempts. “He makes a good point. None of us can do it but you, and he can help.” She narrows her eyes up at Negan. “And I’ll stay and make sure he can handle doing so.”

Negan doesn’t like feeling as if he needs a babysitter, but that isn’t what’s important. This is about Rick.

“You can always send for me if you need me.” Maggie reassures, and next to her, Jesus nods.

“Or me.”

Carl frowns, but after Lydia offers him a reassuring, confident smile, he nods. “…Okay. I’ll try my best.”

Negan knows he won’t disappoint.

\- - - - -

Two weeks later, Rick is still asleep. His vitals have stabilized and his fever has gone away, but other than that, there is no sign that he’s going to wake up any time soon. He’s still fast asleep on that bed, hair and beard mostly untended, his eyes probably having forgotten what the room around him looks like.

Under Negan’s advice, Carl does not put forth any new actions during this time. He serves as an advisor more than a leader, with Negan at his side. At night, he and Negan give Rick sponge baths and alternate between keeping watch over him through the nights. They strike up awkward conversation around him in hopes that he might wake up and join in, and they _never_ speak of him in the past tense.

Tonight is Negan’s watch. He has just finished trimming Rick’s beard and combing through the short hair atop his head that’s starting to grow. It’s odd, how despite Rick’s mind being on pause, his body continues to play on, and Negan tries to take hope out of that fact alone.

Tonight, it’s particularly difficult though. Negan’s mentally and physically exhausted. Sleeping is more difficult when your mind is going a mile a minute, and it’s all because he can’t stop worrying about the possibility of Rick waking up. Hell, he’s got no concern about the Sanctuary, because even though Dwight had been unwilling to go back in Negan’s place, Negan knows he’ll do what it takes to keep things in check, even if only for Rick.

No, this is _all_ about Rick. All about how little has changed with his physical state since two weeks ago. He’s clearly not going to die any time soon, but there’s no telling how long it’s going to be before he wakes up, or if he’s ever going to wake up at all.

But despite this negativity, Negan lies down at night and his mind wanders. What if Rick wakes up? What if Carl goes to retrieve Negan and he’s too fast asleep to hear? What if Rick takes a turn for the worst through the night and Negan wakes up to find out that he died overnight? So many things could go wrong, and so many could go right, and they all mingle together and haunt the entirety of Negan’s mind. The most rest he ever gets is an hour or two of tossing and turning while just barely unconscious.

He elects that Carl is more wiped out than he is, however, and decides to take on the responsibility of bathing Rick alone tonight. And now that the trimming of his beard is done, Negan does just that.

It’s harder without Carl here. Harder physically, because Rick is essentially a ragdoll in his grip, and sitting him up to take his clothes off is one hell of a challenge without throwing him around like a volleyball.

It’s harder emotionally, because Negan has no one to converse with—to keep his mind off of the everything he sees of Rick in the bathing process. The slightly misshapen kneecap from where Negan snapped his leg, and the scar on his side from where Negan made Dwight fire an arrow at him. The stump where his right hand is missing, and come to think of it, Negan hasn’t asked him what happened to it. Rick is a mess of scars and malnutrition, and Negan realizes as he washes Rick’s chest and sees pronounced ribs instead of a lean form that if Rick doesn’t wake up soon, he’s going to starve.

He speaks without thinking. “I’ve been a real shitty person to you, haven’t I? Hell, not _just_ to you, even. I killed your friends, and I killed that kid who tried to get me out of my cell. I burned people’s fucking _faces_. I threatened your son. Took lives for some epic fucking bullshit reasons. No goddamn wonder it took years for you to stop looking at me like I used your fucking art project for toilet paper.”

Negan wonders if Rick can actually hear him, but it also doesn’t really matter at this point, because he’s going to keep talking no matter what. It’s partly that he wants Rick to know what he’s thinking, and also that he’s getting a whole hell of a fucking lot off his chest.

So, as he slides a fresh outfit onto Rick’s slumbering form and covers him up once more, Negan keeps going. “I don’t remember exactly how much I told you about Lucille, Rick, but she was fucking perfect. Frankly, anyone who can decide to share wedding vows with a piece of horse shit like myself is fucking perfect, but she was downright ethereal. She kept me in line, and reminded me how to keep my shit straight most times. She loved me through thick and thin, even after I had the gall to fucking sleep around on her. She acted like nothing was happening, and maybe it was because it was easier to play pretend. Or fuck, maybe she wanted to see karma bite me in the ass instead of having to do so herself.”

Negan thinks that maybe confessions like this one are better spoken to an awake Rick Grimes, but it is what it is. Negan isn’t one hundred percent convinced he’s going to see an awake Rick Grimes again. So, yet again, he keeps speaking.

“Too bad karma forgot Lucille didn’t do shit and gave her fucking _cancer._ Still pretty pissed off that God or whatever felt the need to punish her over my fuck-up, too. But here’s some shit, Rick. I ended it with the other girl, outright told Lucille, and she _still_ stayed with me. Got all mad because she thought that it was unfair to _me_ that she had gotten sick. Spoke as if it was a shame I’d gotten saddled with her because of her illness.”

He relaxes back in the chair next to Rick’s bed and sighs, laughing as he exhales. “That’s the kind of girl she was, y’know? Loyal and selfless all the way to the end. Even after my blubbering and whining over how unfair it was, she stayed with me. Suppose that maybe all that fucking mattered to her in the equation was that she still loved me. Needed my company while chemo made her sick and cancer made her hurt. She was the good kind of selfish, and she was goddamned beautiful, even when she lost all of her hair and her skin got clammy.”

He clears his throat, trying to push away the emotion bubbling up in his throat like bile. “Guess I am pretty relieved that she didn’t have to live through the fucking zombie apocalypse. Then again, maybe she would have done like you and just made it fucking work somehow.”

Negan leans forward, adjusts Rick’s sheets a little, sighs, and then dares to touch the side of his face. Rick doesn’t so much as twitch in response to the contact. That doesn’t stop the soft smile from working its way onto Negan’s features.

“You actually remind me a lot of Lucille. I like to think that she would’ve slit my throat after all I’d done, too. You guys are fucking amazing, and if I’m being completely honest about you both, I don’t think people like you can be replaced. Here in Alexandria, I’m surrounded by good people, but none of them hold a candle to you. When I lost Lucille, I didn’t think anything was ever going to make sense again. It took a whole hell of a fucking lot for _you_ to reorient me. And now that you’re just…lying there in that bed, I’m starting to realize I’m going to get lost again.”

Welp, there’s the emotion again. Negan chokes, covers his eyes, and sits back again. Rick isn’t dead, but this still hurts so goddamned much. Poor Carl probably feels even more miserable than Negan, himself.

He wipes at his eyes, breathes in and out shakily, and then keeps speaking. “But no matter what happens here,” he resumes, scowling in quivering determination, “I won’t fuck up again. I’m gonna keep going, and learn to see the world like Lucille did…like you do. You don’t ever have to worry about your people’s welfare ever again, Rick. It might take fucking centuries for me to do so, but I’m gonna make up for all the bullshit I ever did. All the years of being a cheater, an asshole, a bitter, sore motherfucking loser, they’re gonna stay in the past, and hell…”

He smiles tearfully, even if Rick can’t see it.

“Maybe when you wake up, you’ll be proud of me. Anymore, Rick, that’s all I want.”

Negan finally caves in and crawls into bed with Rick. He keeps a respectful distance, but turns to lie on his side. The last thing he sees is Rick’s sleeping form before he succumbs to exhaustion and falls asleep.

\- - - - -

A week later, a doctor from the Kingdom arrives and hooks Rick up to a makeshift IV, a homemade vitamin and nutrient solution as well as regular fluids now being coursed through his veins. The doctor makes no promises, but suggests that it’s probably the best option at this point. He offers to stay for a couple of days to see how the fluids affect Rick’s body. Michonne chooses to sit with Rick and the doctor so Carl and Negan can address Alexandria in tandem and inform them of Rick’s current condition.

It’s harder than Negan ever imagined to see Carl up here like this. He answers most of the questions, his eye steely and shoulders rigid. Negan imagines he’s the only one who can actually see the trembling in his fisted hands, and just how ready to break down he is. That’s why, after the meeting is over, Negan follows him.

“Kid.” He calls out, but Carl’s headed at what can’t be any less than fucking hyper-speed to his father’s house. “Carl. C’mon!”

He doesn’t succeed in winning Carl’s attention until clear after they make it inside and to the living room. He cuts Carl off at the stairs.

“ _Move._ ” Carl’s one good eye is misty, but fierce.

“No.” Negan snaps. “You need a break. Let me take over for a couple of weeks.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Carl’s eye widens in a mixture of horror and fury. “No! You said it yourself—these people need me.”

“And you’re about to lose it, dumbass.” Negan responds, tone sharp. “Your old man is a prime fucking example of what happens when you take on too damned much.”

“You don’t get to talk about my dad like that.” Carl’s tone is threatening. “Alexandria is counting on me. _Dad_ is counting on me.”

“Your dad wouldn’t want you to fucking _kill_ yourself with stress—don’t insult him like that!”

“Watch your damn mouth!” Carl roars. “He’s my dad! He’s not your _anything_! You’re helping me because everyone else wanted you to—not because I need you.” He looks every ounce like his father right now, with his shoulders all squared up and his teeth bared in anger. It’s like the first time Rick threatened to kill Negan, and as a result, Negan pushes aside whatever hurt he feels from Carl’s words and just sighs. When he calms down, so does Carl.

“Carl.” Negan tries again. “I don’t have to be the one that helps you. Want someone else? Gimme their fucking name and I’ll go get them _for_ you. But, c’mon, open your eyes. How much longer do you think it’s gonna be before Rick wakes up?”

Carl bites his lip and turns his gaze down to the living room floor. Negan takes some relief in getting through to him. “…I don’t know.” He finally says, in a voice so weak it makes Negan’s heart crack.

“You’re stressed.” Negan replies. “The last thing your father or these people needs is the heartache of possibly losing you, too. Think of all your friends back at the Hilltop. Think of Lydia.”

And that’s all it takes for Carl to crumble. Negan sees his eye well up and watches big, messy tears start to stream down his face. His knees buckle, and as he hits the ground at the foot of the stairs, Negan drops with him. He pulls the teenager into his arms, and said teenager wails and sobs despairingly, right there, at those stairs.

Hearing the commotion, Lydia and Michonne descend the stairs. Negan hears Lydia whisper Carl’s name in shock, and then both women move to join in the embrace. Their sobs soon fill the room, too.

Before Negan realizes it, he’s crying right along with them. Nobody questions it, though. The four just cling tightly to one another, their overwhelming worries finally reaching a fever pitch and demanding the better of them. They cry freely among one another, and even if it doesn’t go away, the stress thins out somewhat. Sobs die out and give way to hiccups, and then hiccups fade into shaky, hitching breaths. The four separate and move to sit on the couch.

“What happened?” Michonne asks, wiping at her eyes.

“Carl’s gonna take a little break from being leader.” Negan responds. It isn’t exactly an answer to her question, but Carl nods along.

“Yeah.” He says. “Negan will take over, and then I’ll step back in after a while.”

Both Lydia and Michonne frown.

“I don’t want him collapsing like his old man.” Negan insists. “It’s hard enough to see Rick like this.”

And he knows everyone knows he’s right when no one questions the fact that Negan is going to be the one taking over. Surprisingly, everyone seems alright with the arrangement. The four even devolve into almost normal, nearly pleasant conversation after that.

They converse clear into evening. It isn’t until the doctor from the Kingdom emerges down the stairs that they decide to call it a night. Carl and Negan bid him, Lydia, and Michonne farewell and then head upstairs to bathe Rick and get him ready for bed.

\- - - - -

Two more weeks later, Rick is still asleep. His hair is growing longer, so Negan and Carl trim it, as well as his beard. Negan decides that sponge baths are only cleaning Rick so much, so he and Carl end up giving him a shower. Negan sits on the shower floor with Rick to hold him upright while Carl cleans him.

“Isn’t that awkward?” Carl snorts. He’s significantly more relaxed even just a couple of weeks after Negan took over the leadership role. It’s probably a mixture of seeing that things are still working out with Negan at the helm, and the ability to have some time to himself and with everyone else. Either way, it’s nice to see him looking semi-alright. “You don’t have to leave all your clothes on—you’re gonna get soaked.”

Negan shrugs. “I’ll take them off after we get Rick cleaned up and I can have the shower to myself. No fucking offense, kid.”

Carl rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Tip dad’s head back a little.”

Negan does so, and explains it to Rick as if he’s awake. “Rick, we gotta wash your hair. This is gonna feel good as fuck compared to all those shitty-ass sponge baths.”

“You don’t have to tell him that.” Carl laughs.

“I dunno if he can hear us.” Negan shrugs. “If I couldn’t move, I’d sure as shit want people to tell me what the fuck they’re doing to me.”

Carl hesitates, but nods soon enough. “Fair enough. Well, thanks Negan.”

“No fucking problem.” Negan replies. “No way in hell I’d make you try and accomplish this shower thing yourself. You’d need two extra arms—maybe even a few more than that.”

“No.” Carl laughs again. “I mean, for being so caring with my dad. I dunno when you started thinking so much of him, but it means a lot. If Dad can hear you, I’m sure he appreciates everything you’ve done and said so far.”

Negan can honestly say he didn’t go into this whole thing expecting thanks from anyone. Especially not Carl. But fuck if he isn’t all kinds of flattered about it. Carl might finally be softening up to him, and that means more to him than he could have ever anticipated.

“Shit, kid…thanks. Whatever it takes to get Rick back on his feet.” Negan smiles.

Carl mirrors the smile, and then twirls a finger at his father. “Turn him around so I can wash his back.”

It takes some effort, but Negan soon has Rick facing him, one leg on either side of his waist, his head resting on Negan’s shoulder. Carl gets straight to work cleaning him off, and even through his own clothes, Negan finds that he too enjoys the heat of the shower spray. He’s about to make a joke about it when something incredible happens.

It starts with a twitch that Negan honestly thinks he imagined, but when he feels both of Rick’s arms raise up, and the fingers of his remaining hand knotting into a weak fist around his shirt, his chest tightens with so much intensity that he can’t breathe.

Carl’s gawking at Negan, and Negan’s staring right back. He finally snaps out of it and pushes Rick back just a bit.

And there Rick is, holding his own head up, his eyes open and blinking away over a month of sleep. He brings a hand up to touch the side of Negan’s face, and Negan almost cries.

“Holy fuck…Rick Grimes, is that you?”

Rick doesn’t answer. Instead, he nods slowly. He looks disoriented, and his eyes are glazed. He’s still somehow tired, but that’s okay. Negan pivots him once more, just in time for Carl to throw his arms around his father and start crying all over again.

Negan just sits back and smiles.

\- - - - -

As it turns out, Rick is still mostly catatonic. He doesn’t do much more than look around, and he has yet to try and walk. His reaction time and hearing seem to process slowly, and he has yet to say so much as a single word.

But he’s awake. He’s alive.

Rick is instantly met with warm hugs from everyone. Maggie shows up when Jesus retrieves her, and they all gather in Rick’s living room to embrace him. Rick doesn’t do much more than try to hug back. For the most part, he’s distant and quiet. It’s like the movements are more his body than his mind.

After Maggie’s arrival, Carl and Negan wheel Rick out to a meeting with the rest of Alexandria to announce that he’s awake. He’s met with an almost overwhelming round of applause, and while Carl requests help teaching his father to walk again, Negan casts a glance over to Rick. He’s taking in the crowd in front of him with no real emotion on his face. It’s as if a part of him is still asleep.

A week after Rick’s initial awakening, he starts to regain the unhealthy amount of weight he lost while he was unconscious, and the doctor from the Kingdom finally decides to take his leave. Physical therapy is a challenge, because Rick’s mostly-there catatonia makes it difficult to instruct him on his movements. Occasionally, he can be persuaded to exercise, but it hardly lasts long, and he still never speaks. He does, however, offer a small nod every now and then, almost as if he’s trying to convey that he hears what’s being said.

Negan watches on the sidelines most of the time and takes over when those assisting Rick give up for the day.

Today, he suggests a bath as he wheels Rick back to his house. Rick nods almost a minute after the offer, but Negan tries not to pay it any mind. It’s still better than him being asleep like he was before. Negan is never going to take those eyes or that face for granted again.

And maybe one day, he’ll get to say that about Rick’s voice. Negan misses the fuck out of Rick’s voice. He talks to him all the time in hopes that he might get a verbal response one day. He isn’t sure exactly what woke Rick up in the first place, but he’s willing to try just about anything. And Carl, Maggie, Michonne and the others are right there with him on that mindset. They all talk to Rick as if he’s conversing right along with them, and they reserve their concerns and emotional upset for after Rick goes to bed.

Negan, perhaps just like everyone else, resides in fear that Rick might slip right back into that deep slumber again if he lets him go back to sleep. But he does anyway, and so far, Rick has awakened every morning. It doesn’t stop dread from creeping up on him every night, but it isn’t like he can just tell Rick he’s not allowed to sleep ever again.

So, he wills himself to rest every night hoping Rick is going to will himself awake every morning.

Negan helps Rick into the tub, and then hands him a cloth. “I’m gonna let you wash up where you can this time, okay?”

Rick just stares at the cloth for half a minute, before he finally accepts the item. Negan watches as muscle memory tells Rick to wet the cloth and then lather it up in soap. He washes his arms, and then the cloth drops from his hands. He looks tired, and Negan feels a pang of guilt.

“That’s okay.” Negan tells him, trying his best to keep a calm smile on his face. “I’m fucking sorry, Rick—I know you’re worn out.”

And then he drifts off. His gaze follows the cloth as it sinks to the bottom of the tub and its image ripples beneath the water. Is that what Rick sees in his mind? What’s going on in his head? Why can’t he talk? Is he ever going to be able to do so again? Walk again? Does he possess any quality of life right now?

Negan pulls himself out of his thoughts in favor of resuming Rick’s bath. He reaches into the water and closes his fingers around the cloth, and as he works, continues speaking. “I know you can’t help it, but sometimes I feel like I’m talking to deaf ears. Are you in there, Rick? Hell, maybe you’re hearing this self-indulgent bullfuckery right now and mentally screaming how idiotic I am for even trying to ask. You just can’t get the words out. What happened to you?”

Negan releases a heavy sigh. “I mean, Eugene found you, but does that mean you collapsed out of exhaustion, or was it something else? The truth is, Rick, I’m fucking terrified for you. I don’t know if you’re sick or just trying to readjust after a month’s worth of sleeping. Keep feeling like I’m gonna fuck up somewhere. Carl even trusts me more than I trust myself right now. Isn’t that some crazy shit?”

He wants Rick to scoff and tell him that such a fact is indeed crazy. There’s no way the stubborn Carl Grimes would _ever_ trust Negan for anything, let alone with his father. But it never comes. Rick watches Negan with that same blank stare, just simply waiting for the next step. Negan’s heart breaks at the sight.

“I just want you to be okay, that’s all.” Negan continues. “I know it’s crazy, but you are so, so fucking important to me. To so many people. I’m so happy that you’re awake, but _are_ you? Or is your body on some kind of sick autopilot while your mind’s still passed the fuck out? What the hell kind of life is that?”

He doesn’t realize he’s stopped washing Rick until the smaller man’s fingers close around his forearm. Negan turns his gaze up to Rick, and his jaw drops 

Rick’s stare isn’t distant anymore. His gaze is focused very pointedly on Negan’s eyes, and he almost looks as if he’s going to break down and cry. He shakes his head slowly, his brow furrowed upward, and the grip on Negan’s arm tightens.

Negan isn’t sure if Rick was there before just now, but he knows that Rick’s here now. And he’s trying to get _more_ here. He _wants_ to wake up, and to do for himself again.

Negan realizes upon looking into that pitiful stare that he’s in love. And not just the kind of in love where you want to hold and kiss and be with someone. Negan just wants Rick to feel better. He wants to know what happened to him, and he wants to make sure that it never happens again. It doesn’t matter whether Rick reciprocates or not. Fuck, it’d be better if he didn’t, considering Andrea’s death was just a year ago and Negan knows Rick is still trying to get past that. He just wants Rick to be okay, and he isn’t sure he will be able to return to the Sanctuary until he knows for certain that Rick’s on the mend, and that whatever knocked him out isn’t going to do so again.

Negan pulls free of his thoughts once more, covering Rick’s hand with his own. He smiles sadly. “don’t fucking look at me like that, Rick. I’m sorry, I just waxed all shades of goddamned emotional on you, huh? I just got to thinking, I guess.”

Rick frowns and shakes his head. Negan somehow knows it’s a sort of ‘it’s okay’ and he nods in understanding. He also thinks that, fuck, this is the most response he’s gotten from Rick since he woke up. It gives him hope that the guy might one day be able to walk and talk again.

“So…maybe this is just a stretch,” Negan tries, but can you answer questions right now? Yes or no ones? If you don’t feel like playing Twenty Questions, no fucking harm done, okay?”

Rick shrugs, and as Negan continues, he picks up where he left off with Rick’s bath. Even in his newfound clarity, Rick doesn’t seem to mind Negan being the one to clean him up.

“Do you remember blacking out?” He starts.

Rick nods.

“Did you feel sick?”

Rick shakes his head.

“Were you stressed?” Negan asks.

Rick shrugs, and then shakes his head again. He even goes so far as to scratch the back of his neck.

“You had a lot on your plate, so I get it if you don’t know.” Negan shrugs too. “It’s just good to have you back.”

It takes everything Negan has in him to avoid the urge to ask if Rick heard him and Carl and Michonne talking to him while he was asleep. But maybe that’s enough questions for now. He’ll ask another day, and with enough luck, perhaps he’ll get a verbal response.

Rick is intuitive, and he seems to perceive this silent resolve. He just contentedly assists Negan with the rest of his bath.

\- - - - -

The response to Rick’s new progress is as incredible as the last one. Negan spends his time watching everyone hug and rejoice over Rick all over again. Except this time, he smiles and does his best to return their gestures. He nonverbally tries to answer all their questions, and once more, hope radiates throughout the room.

Negan watches in silence, because this is all Rick. Rick’s strength and drive and everything about him are all so incredibly resounding and present and everyone feels it. At this point, they all know he’s going to get better.

Rick’s physical therapy picks up with his increased alertness. The exercises are pretty basic at first, but soon, Rick is learning to walk again. He tries hard, probably too hard, for hours each and every day.

But he gets better. He gets stronger, and in just a couple of months, he’s ready to do away with the wheelchair. Carl and Negan and Michonne help him to get around, and after that, it only gets better.

Rick’s first words are strained and incoherent, and the effort to speak seems as challenging as it had initially been to walk. But he goes from complete silence to grunting and managing a few names. Negan didn’t realize it was possible to injure a voice box, but considering how raspy and whispery Rick’s voice is at present, he now knows better.

Carl keeps Rick company one night, while Negan sleeps in the guest room. Sleep comes easier now, and Negan collapses almost immediately onto the bed once given the chance. He sleeps a long, dreamless sleep, clear until morning. It’s the first time in a long time Negan’s felt so well-rested.

He decides on a shower before going to take over for Carl, but when he exits into the hallway and finds Rick panting against the wall, his thoughts and plans are abandoned. He quickly rushes to Rick’s side to help support him.

“…The hell’re you doing?” Negan demands. Rick just points to the guest room.

“…I want to talk.” He says, and Negan is blown away by the amount of strength in his voice. At least compared to how he’s sounded lately, Negan almost swears he hears the old Rick’s voice. His stomach does a flip.

“Yeah, fuck, of course.” Negan responds, as he helps Rick walk back with him to the room. Negan directs him to the bed and then moves to sit next to Rick. He suddenly has the feeling that Rick is about to pull another goddamned miracle right under his nose.

And that’s exactly what he does.

“Thank you.” He says, and even though he’s straining, Negan can tell he’s not done talking. He’s torn between telling Rick to take it easy and desperately wanting to hear more.

“Yeah.” Negan answers. “Does Carl know you’re out trying to walk alone?”

“He’s asleep.” Rick shakes his head. “I knew you’d be up by now.”

“Jesus, Rick.” Negan swallows. “This is fucking amazing, don’t get me wrong, but you’re gonna overexert yourself. You should rest.”

“I’m tired of resting.” Rick growls firmly. “I want to talk.”

“…Okay.” Negan doesn’t have the heart to argue, so he just leans back to rest his weight on his hands and watches as Rick somehow finds his words.

“I heard everything.” Rick starts. “From Eugene finding me, to Carl and Michonne and Maggie talking to me. To you talking to me. You mentioned once that you didn’t know if I was there, but I was. I heard it all. And there was this weird time when after you opened up to me, it was warm. You were close.” Rick’s smile is knowing, and neither of them have to make an effort to confirm that Rick is referring to when Negan crawled into bed with him.

“I was tired.” Negan admits, and Rick raises his left hand to silence him.

“It’s okay. Carl did it too, and Michonne. You all have worked so hard to keep this place going for me, and I’m so thankful for all of you. Negan, I spent so long with my guard up around you. I didn’t trust you.”

Negan blinks, surprised by Rick’s words. “I mean, for good fucking reason, Rick. I get it, okay?”

Rick shakes his head. “That was then. You said a year ago that I saved you from yourself. I’m not sure what I was thinking back then, but I believe you now. I never knew what was going to come out of not locking you back up in that cell, but I’m glad now that I didn’t.” Rick’s voice grows more gravelly, but Negan can still tell he’s not done.

“While I was sleeping, you told me you wanted to make me proud.”

Negan feels his eyes widen as Rick pulls him in for a hug, and he’s shocked by the strength the man possesses as he does so.

“I’m so proud of you, Negan.” Rick says, voice somehow so soothing even with the haze of exhaustion surrounding it. “Thank you for making me trust you.”

Rick spends the next ten or so minutes thanking Negan for watching out for Carl, and for the sponge baths, and for not giving up, but it’s the most Negan can manage to cling back to Rick and feel so grateful for a guy like him.

He’s already resolved to make himself a better person, and to do right by Rick, but the resolve is born all over again now, especially since he knows Rick is getting better.

Maybe one day, Rick will call him a friend.


End file.
